Part 14 (1/2)

Love from Sondra.

Bellow had married Sondra Tschacbasov in February.

To Granville Hicks [n.d.] [Reno]

Dear Granville Hicks: An excellent idea. I have been giving it serious thought and I am very much in favor of such a book and I think no one is better fitted than yourself for the job. I can, however, understand Wright Morris's hesitation. I too am working at a new novel, as Henry may have mentioned, and it is rather like enjoying the girl and defending her from attackers at the same moment-difficult, very difficult!

Of course we are continually aware, while working, that we are under attack, and so perhaps it is wiser not to pretend that we are a species without enemies. I am familiar with Lionel Trilling's att.i.tude, of course. It is one of the historical blessings of Jewish birth that one is used to flourish in the face of hostile opinion. I hinted at this last year when Francis Brown of the Times Book Review Times Book Review asked me to write a piece. The att.i.tude I took then was that the modern world is full of people who declare that other people are obsolete. Stalin and the Kulaks, Hitler and the Jews and Slavs and gypsies, and Trilling and T. S. Eliot and several others have decided that novels are done for historically. So that one Hegelian posse or another is always riding hard on the heels of practically everyone. Possibly college professors are excepted. asked me to write a piece. The att.i.tude I took then was that the modern world is full of people who declare that other people are obsolete. Stalin and the Kulaks, Hitler and the Jews and Slavs and gypsies, and Trilling and T. S. Eliot and several others have decided that novels are done for historically. So that one Hegelian posse or another is always riding hard on the heels of practically everyone. Possibly college professors are excepted.

Anyway, Francis Brown would not print [my essay]. He said it was not ”vintage Bellow.” The quote is direct.

Afterwards I thought it over and decided that there is only one way to defeat the enemy, and that is to write as well as one can. The best argument is an undeniably good book. If that doesn't convince 'em, and it may not for the spirit of denial is very strong, one has at least labored to some purpose in having reached less arbitrary and opinionated souls who have not yet learned of the lamentable obsolescence of fiction. Arguments will be met by further arguments, and victory will always fall to the critics.

But I have no objection to framing my views on the writing of fiction and on the situation of the writer. I do have strong views and there is no use in trying to conceal them. I am entirely willing, even eager, to air them in your anthology. But I greatly fear the enemy will say, ”These vanis.h.i.+ng Americans deny that they are vanis.h.i.+ng.” Or, ”These lizards presume to call themselves still dinosaurs.” Of course, lizards are far less extinct than many men I know (like Trilling). But you see it is is a little awkward to a little awkward to insist insist, and possibly this is what Wright has in mind.

Have you thought of Thornton Wilder as possible contributor?

I should very much like to know what you think of my points. Soon my wife and I are returning; we expect to be in New York by mid-June. Perhaps we can have a conversation about this. Henry knows my whereabouts, usually, and he can arrange a meeting.

With very best wishes,

Granville Hicks (1901-82) was a literary critic, teacher, and editor who published, among other books, Figures of Transition: A Study of British Literature at the End of the Nineteenth Century Figures of Transition: A Study of British Literature at the End of the Nineteenth Century (1939) and, in an early Communist phase, (1939) and, in an early Communist phase, John Reed: The Making of a Revolutionary John Reed: The Making of a Revolutionary (1936). He had proposed that Bellow write an essay on the current state of fiction for an anthology, (1936). He had proposed that Bellow write an essay on the current state of fiction for an anthology, The Living Novel: A Symposium, The Living Novel: A Symposium, scheduled for 1957. Bellow's contribution was ”Distractions of a Fiction Writer.” scheduled for 1957. Bellow's contribution was ”Distractions of a Fiction Writer.”

To Pascal Covici March 16, 1956 Reno Dear Pat: You got me into this [San Francisco] Examiner Examiner bother. The Hearst Press, no less! I know you're an old cynic to whom these things are as the clouds that pa.s.s. I myself am beginning to feel like that. Disgusting! Here Nixons, there Eisenhowers, Kefauvers. Bah! Harding was at least funny. But there were people to make fun of him. Now everybody is respectful and fish-headed and utterly, piously stupid. And I'm supposed to go to SF for this piously created cultural occasion. I am a promising writer who wrote a shocking but powerful book and I learned about writing from the New Testament. Me! [ . . . ] I am sure I said that having been brought up to regard the Old Testament as truth, the New Testament looked to me to be fiction. It still does. So now this irony has been turned about for the readers of the bother. The Hearst Press, no less! I know you're an old cynic to whom these things are as the clouds that pa.s.s. I myself am beginning to feel like that. Disgusting! Here Nixons, there Eisenhowers, Kefauvers. Bah! Harding was at least funny. But there were people to make fun of him. Now everybody is respectful and fish-headed and utterly, piously stupid. And I'm supposed to go to SF for this piously created cultural occasion. I am a promising writer who wrote a shocking but powerful book and I learned about writing from the New Testament. Me! [ . . . ] I am sure I said that having been brought up to regard the Old Testament as truth, the New Testament looked to me to be fiction. It still does. So now this irony has been turned about for the readers of the Examiner Examiner so that I sound no brainier than a stove pipe. But pious, pious, pious. Mmm! I pray, I love Jesus and Eisenhower and kiss everyone's backside with patriotic and wors.h.i.+pful humility. Note: They aren't even paying me a fee for it. All of this a.s.s-kissing is philanthropic; I do it for culture, for Ike and for you, and for Hearst and beautiful San Francisco, and for book sales. so that I sound no brainier than a stove pipe. But pious, pious, pious. Mmm! I pray, I love Jesus and Eisenhower and kiss everyone's backside with patriotic and wors.h.i.+pful humility. Note: They aren't even paying me a fee for it. All of this a.s.s-kissing is philanthropic; I do it for culture, for Ike and for you, and for Hearst and beautiful San Francisco, and for book sales.

This little trip will cause a short delay in the delivery of those stories. I have written another new, long one. Now in Henry's hands. It looks like a piece of my Joshua novel, the bootlegger's son's memoirs, and it represents my first real effort to create a heroine. I seem to have done it. I've at least convinced myself. I'm hoping the New Yorker New Yorker will buy it. For since the will buy it. For since the Holiday Holiday fiasco (it turns out that I wasn't pious enough about Carl Sandburg and Marshall Field or somebody) I'm rather short of money. Though, like a well-heeled writer I'm donating my services to the fiasco (it turns out that I wasn't pious enough about Carl Sandburg and Marshall Field or somebody) I'm rather short of money. Though, like a well-heeled writer I'm donating my services to the San Francisco Examiner San Francisco Examiner together with Ilka Chase and Irving Stone-note well those names, dearest Covici!-yes, just like a penniless Polish baron who has nothing but his moustache and his pride. together with Ilka Chase and Irving Stone-note well those names, dearest Covici!-yes, just like a penniless Polish baron who has nothing but his moustache and his pride.

Africa [i.e., Henderson the Rain King Henderson the Rain King] is about half completed. Shall I send you five or six chapters for safekeeping? I have the carbons. It may be a good idea. But I must ask you not to show the stuff to anyone.

I must be in one of those hornet's moods of mine. I always manifest them to people I love. Others would bat me down. But, you see, I have to monkey with my old stories; I have to speak in San Francisco. And I have to wait here until my settlement is completed. None of these things do I want to do. Hence the temper. Please forgive me.

One serious remark: I have a feeling that the African thing is going to be very good.

Best to Dorothy and the children.

Love,

To Ralph Ellison April 2, 1956 Reno Dear Ralph: How goes your-I am on the point of saying exile, but it's I who am exiled, while you're in the middle of everything. Was there so much to be apprehensive about? A good long look back to this side is probably what you've needed for some time. G.o.d knows it doesn't bear too much looking at when it's right on top of you. One close look a month is about enough for me, when I buy Life Life and see that Faulkner is threatening a second Civil War, and if one of the best has become such a d.a.m.ned fool, imagine what the worst are like. I began to miss the great world after a few months here in the desert, and then some real or pretended GI sold me a subscription to and see that Faulkner is threatening a second Civil War, and if one of the best has become such a d.a.m.ned fool, imagine what the worst are like. I began to miss the great world after a few months here in the desert, and then some real or pretended GI sold me a subscription to News-week News-week and conned me out of nine bucks. The thing has never come, and perhaps I've made a double gain. In three weeks of desert any city boy can become hayseed green. and conned me out of nine bucks. The thing has never come, and perhaps I've made a double gain. In three weeks of desert any city boy can become hayseed green.

I hope it's been a good year for you and f.a.n.n.y; for Sondra and me it's been a remarkable one. You wouldn't have known me, Ralph, with my casting outfit and a new reel pulling in rainbow trout. Sitting a horse, too. But this doesn't mean any Hemingway conversion. I like fish, but after you've pitted your brain against theirs for an afternoon, the interest begins to give out. I'm fonder of horses. But you can't kid yourself. The jets go over the sky with a clap of air after them, and there goes your primitive moment.

My interest in literature is beginning to revive. I hate it less now than I did last year. G.o.d knows how my back ever came to be under this this cross. To do something once in a while is a thrill, if you don't have the money-spectre waiting on the throne for you to perform and grovel like a d.a.m.n clown. It hasn't become easier; it's that I care less. The small legacy helped. I don't like to hand my father's money over to Anita, since they hated each other, but I tell myself that it does something for Greg. I can't specifically say what that is. It ensures a bourgeois upbringing. Poverty would be better, but it isn't to be found anyhow. cross. To do something once in a while is a thrill, if you don't have the money-spectre waiting on the throne for you to perform and grovel like a d.a.m.n clown. It hasn't become easier; it's that I care less. The small legacy helped. I don't like to hand my father's money over to Anita, since they hated each other, but I tell myself that it does something for Greg. I can't specifically say what that is. It ensures a bourgeois upbringing. Poverty would be better, but it isn't to be found anyhow.

We'll be back in the East this summer to spend August with the kid, and we'll probably stay there. We're very nearly broke, and I'm trying to arrange some part-time teaching. A book of stories is coming out this fall, but that won't bring in very much. Besides, all stories seem to me yesteryear's ghosts. All that scaffolding, and then you're lucky to mount one little Christmas star. There's comfort in the fact that one of the stories is a small novel-almost. It's the one I wrote at Bard last summer, and there's a good deal of excitement in it.

Let me have some good news of yourself and your labors and your six months of Rome.

Love to you both,

In February, Life Life had published Faulkner's ”A Letter to the North” in which, responding to those ”who would compel immediate and unconditional integration,” he had warned, ”Go slow now. Stop for a time, a moment.” had published Faulkner's ”A Letter to the North” in which, responding to those ”who would compel immediate and unconditional integration,” he had warned, ”Go slow now. Stop for a time, a moment.”

To Samuel S. Goldberg [n.d.] [Reno]

Cher Samuel: Samuel: I have a brief pause in my occupations, having recently completed and sent off my long story or novelette, Seize the Day Seize the Day, to Viking. It'll appear with several other pieces in the fall, and let's hope it will bring some revenue. The hope is rather flimsy. Stories, even mine, can't expect much of a sale. The Guggenheim is coming to an end, and I had a disappointing bust-up with Holiday Holiday. The editors told me first to write the Illinois piece in my own way and then were appalled by my long discussion of boredom in the Midwest. They wanted me to cheer things up a little, like a true native son. But I couldn't do that. Like Lincoln, I was a lousy immigrant.

Without my Pa's small legacy, in other words, I could never make do. But I've had a valuable illumination about money, thanks to Seize the Day Seize the Day. I've learned the true value of a dollar. It's about two cents, on my scale. We need money on account of our vices. But after all, vice isn't everything. There are also cheaper vices, and I am remodeling Walden mentally for modern habitation. I'll explain this to you in person some time in June when we return.

I've never seen Sondra so well. You wouldn't know her. I can't congratulate myself often enough. Do you still wander round the bookstores? If you should see a copy of R. F. Burton's A Mission to Gelele, King of Dahome A Mission to Gelele, King of Dahome, please capture it for me and send it out. I'm in the midst of a long novella about an explorer and need it for some of the details. G.o.d will bless you for sending it air-express. I will pay all charges. It's more important to me than the next election.

Love,

To John Berryman May 16, 1956 [Reno]

Dear Mr. Berrimon: Vous m'excuserez, j'espere, quelques fautes menues. Je n'ai pas le don supreme de la politesse.

I 'ave souvent souvent theenk of your conference theenk of your conference sur sur I-do-and-do-not-wish-to-be-cast-upon-your-sh.o.r.e. It is a I-do-and-do-not-wish-to-be-cast-upon-your-sh.o.r.e. It is a t.i.tre sublime t.i.tre sublime. Et serieus.e.m.e.nt, vous avez peint Et serieus.e.m.e.nt, vous avez peint ze human situation more better than J.-P. Sartre ze human situation more better than J.-P. Sartre avec une seule avec une seule strook. I do and do not wish. strook. I do and do not wish. Voici la question! Elle est toute la, la, la! Voici la question! Elle est toute la, la, la!

My own mind has amended it as follows. I do and do not wish to acknowledge that I have been wrestling at close quarters with a grizzly bear. I have been buying and selling, earning and spending, peeling potatoes, drinking seltzer, and this brown pelt before my dizzy eyes belongs to . . . to . . . an acquaintance. Mais n'en parlons plus Mais n'en parlons plus. A further step might be taken. Father, forgive them, they know and do not know what they do.

Focus is all.